


Final Bow

by seeyouin-Asgard (Sentiment_for_Lost_Creatures)



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Character Death, Death from Old Age, Hospitals, M/M, Old Age, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sentiment_for_Lost_Creatures/pseuds/seeyouin-Asgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Tom’s final moments, he’s never alone with an old friend by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fragment

**Author's Note:**

> Where this came from, I don't even know. I must have been having a really bad day when I started writing this...

As she stands in the doorway of a private room of the best London hospital she could find, she watches the frail man she knows as her uncle intently.  Tom is talking; to someone or something, she doesn't know. She can't see whatever it could be and she can't hear any replies to Tom’s enthusiasm.

A part of her wishes that whoever Tom is talking too was once real, not what she assumes is a hallucination. He always seemed so lonely. Not unhappy, but lonely. He never found a wife — or husband, no one really knew his preference in the end — and he never had the children he once seemed so desperate for. Over the years there wasn't even a dog or cat to call his own. But she could always see in his eyes that he was happy, that's all she could have hoped for.

Her uncle lived a tremendously good life, one of little regret and _so much_ love. She was upset however, that she was one of the only people to visit and sit at his bedside. Tom has lived to the remarkable age of 104, and has only just started to decline in the last year or so. All his friends — his closest friends at least — have already passed on. She was also the last left of their family, and would truly be alone once Tom takes his final bow.

He doesn't really see her as she takes her usual seat, his waning attention still trained on what seems to her like the window. His eyes are far too focused, focused on the fragment of his imagination that he obviously believes is there. The smile on his face could light a million skies.

She sits back in her seat and listens to the stories he reminisces with the invisible stranger she never got to meet, her having to put together the pieces of half a conversation, some of it not making sense. She can only hope what he says is true. The happiness that shines in his eyes eventually absolves any scepticism and it slowly ebbs away at the sight of Tom's bright, but tired smile. This is more than a hallucination brought on by Tom's old age, she _knows_ it is.


	2. Reminisce

The funeral was a sad day, but it filled her with joy. She got to relive her uncle’s life with those who cared for him, and it reminded her of what a wonderful life he had lead.

She decided to bury him, Tom cared neither way, something simple was all he asked for. The ceremony was drawing to a close, the coffin being lowered into the ground when a figure appeared in the distance. She thought she was seeing things through her tears, but as she blinked them away, the image of a tall man with dark hair and pale skin became clear. _He looks familiar_ , but she can't be sure, he's too far away.

The crowd disperses from the site once the final words had been spoken, her friend lingering behind only to be shooed on. She wants a few moments alone. Alone with the stranger that still haunts the cemetery.

"Did you know him?" She asks gently as she approaches, the man’s back to her. He turns slowly and she can't hide her shocked gasp; her hand shakes as it rises to the face that belonged to her uncle. She reaches out to touch, "You," but draws her hand back sharply, mouth gaping open, "You look like him!"

"We have shared more than a face over the years," His sad smile says so much more than his voice needs too.

"You two?" Her eyebrows skyrocket upwards.

"Were lovers," he finishes, but his nose scrunches. "No, that makes it seem crude and insignificant. What we had was more like what you Midgardian’s would call a marriage. He wore my mark, and I his." He lifts his sleeve to reveal a thin, gold band around his wrist.

_So_ that’s _what is was!_

She had asked many times what the band was, who it was from. And without fail, _from_ _a very dear friend,_ he would say. There was always a tender look in his eye, she knew there was more to his story. "Tom never took his off."

“I know," His voice lifts, "I gave it him after our tenth year together."

"I wish I could give it to you now," She glances over her shoulder, back to the grave that is diligently being filled by the old caretaker, “but I thought he should wear it, it was obviously special."

"I would be more upset if he weren't wearing it." He nods. "I designed it, carving the runes myself; he will always safe.”

“The way you speak of _Midgard_ and _runes_ , you sound like you stepped out of those films he was in." The realisation finally dawns on her and the mischief on his face, the twinkle in his eye, the twitching of his lip, tells her she is right. “Loki… _Loki?_ You’re—you’re real?! But _how?_ ”

“I was — how does one put it — _intrigued_ by your uncle. I was on sabbatical from Asgard and needed a place where there was no price on my head: Midgard was most welcoming to my needs." He pauses, remembering, reflecting, "Thomas was promoting one of his films, prancing around a stage commanding thousands of people to “ _say my name_ ”. I’ll never forget when they screamed mine back to him, never could I rouse such a response. I had to find out who this curious mortal was.” There is a fondness on his face unlike any other, “Here we are 72 years later.”

“I can't believe this," she began, "I was fascinated by Norse mythology as a child."

“I know," he interrupts cryptically, "Where do you think Thomas got all his information from on the subject?”

That explains it. Finally she knows why most of the things Uncle Tom had told her weren't in or differed from her books. But there is one thing that was pretty consistent throughout, "Are there no such things as golden apples?”

“There are.” He sighs, head stooping, “And I selfishly hid pieces in his food for years, though he finally discovered my ruse after seven decades. He was most vexed, he didn’t want a life of immortality." A tear blinks from his eye.  "He would say that he had his destiny and I had mine, and at some point our life together must come to an end.”

“He was loved though? You loved him like he deserved, you didn’t hurt him?” She pleads, not that anything could change now, but it will make her happier.

“We had our moments. _I_ ," he stresses, completely ashamed, because really it was all on him; Tom was simply perfection at its best. "I had my moments. When we first met, I was in such a bad place and I made it his fault. I treated him so poorly. But the stubborn fool stuck it out, he stayed with me despite all my faults, and he taught me to love again.” The more he talks the more he smiles, more than he has since the day Tom passed. "I love your uncle and will never stop loving him. Until the end of my days there will be no other like him."

"He wouldn't want you to be alone just because he's gone." She steps forward and squeezes his shoulder gently.

"Well he can't have everything his way, can he?" He grins, able to visualise Tom's face if he could hear Loki now.

She smiles with him as she discovers more and more about Loki's relationship with Tom. Tom really did have him whipped. "What will you do now?"

"Return to Asgard, I suppose," he says, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally, sudden happiness ebbing slowly away, "Repent what I've done and atone for my sins. It's the most I can do for Thomas, he returned my faith in the good and that's what I need to be."

"Will you tell me more about your life together? I feel like I don't know him anymore."

He doesn't hesitate in his promise, she is the last of Tom's living family, his last tie to his partner and this realm, "One day, child."

"We'll meet again?" she asks hopefully.

"I have no doubt that we will."


	3. To the future

Once a year — the anniversary of Thomas’ death — both his niece and the God of Mischief meet at his graveside. The pattern arose unexpectedly, silently because they never spoke of such a thing. If they cannot make it, a single rose is left in their place, a letter adjoined explaining their absence with an update on life throughout the last year.

Every year without fail, Loki, whether it be through seidr or through pure searching, brings a bunch of blue roses, the perfect reflection of the colour of Tom’s eyes. He would gift Tom with the same flowers every year on his birthday, _or_ when he did something particularly annoying. Loki got better at it, but he still found it difficult to apologise, so he found a compromise, a way to say sorry that both he and Tom were happy with.  He would magic the flowers with a note explaining what he was apologising for to Tom’s location and wait it out in the library he curated in the spare room. Tom would eventually hunt him down, thank him for the flowers and whisk them away to the bedroom. Loki doesn’t like to defile his books.

Loki found he liked Thomas’ niece. It was almost as if Tom’s spirit had remained alive and in her body. He could see it in her face, the same expressions he loved seeing on Tom. The warmth, the joy, the enthusiastic amazement when Loki chose to speak more than a few words. It took him the first few years to open up, but eventually he was comfortable enough with her to tell their stories.

She could see in his eyes when he chose to speak of her Uncle that he truly loved him. Even when he told her of the bad times, she could see it. When he spoke of the exchanging of their bracelets, they both shared a happy tear; the moment Tom told Loki to stop feeding him the Golden Apple, that he didn’t want a life of eternity, didn’t want to see his world perish, they shared sad tears. Loki finally explained their first meeting, how badly he treated him because he was hurting, a broken man with no home. She wanted to hit him, slap him or something, horrified by what happened.  But she didn’t. The pained regret was evident enough on his face to believe it.

After he reminisced a story or two, they would talk about themselves. Loki found he liked listening about her life. It was simple and uncomplicated, and her outlook was beautiful.  She saw the good in everything just like her Uncle. She listened with rapt attention when Loki exchanged his tales of Asgard. For the first few years, he would update her of the ongoing trial against him. Once he returned on a more permanent basis, the council was far from happy. They wanted him imprisoned or executed. The first year he failed to meet her at the grave, she thought just that had happened, he’d been put to death. The flowers quelled her panic and explained that for the following six-Midgardian-months he was unable to leave Asgard, confined to the palace whilst he served his punishment. The following year, Loki gifted her a necklace, the same runes as the bracelet he and Tom shared. It may not be the same as having Tom beside them, but to have someone to keep his memory so vividly alive made things at least more bearable.

And they may not speak of it, but Loki openly weeps in her arms the year she has _husband_ added to his headstone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologise for the update time...

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be longer than this and will heavily feature Loki.


End file.
